Chasing Magpies
by nemoisboss
Summary: AU. Surana/Fenris. An accident with the Eluvian sends Fenris back in time, to a woman who is as flighty as a bird and as stubborn as a mule. Lost in a place he does not belong, he must learn to accept the help and guidance of a woman who has a nasty habit of tripping over her own feet and still managing to slay darkspawn every step of the way. If only she weren't a mage...
1. The Hawk

**A/N: **so this takes place basically in Act 2 and around Awakening of Origins. I had to shift around a few events in the timeline to actually make this work, one of them being the DLC 'Witch Hunt.' Hopefully people don't really mind all that much about that, since I know it was suppose to happen a few years after Awakening. I understand that they find Morrigan and all that in the same place as the Mother, but let's just say for this story that it is not. And I've always wondered why, if Justice was always so obsessed with lyrium things, why nothing really happened between him and Fenris. Sure, he's in Anders, but you'd think something would react with a spirit or something. I don't know. I kinda manipulated that idea. Title is destined to change… along with chapter names.

Anyway, hope you enjoy and forgive for some spelling/grammar mistakes. I would really love some reviews!

**Prologue  
**_**The Hawk  
**_"_I was disappearing in plain sight. Heaven help me, I need to make it right."_

"Do you wish for me to weep for a woman I've never met, Anders?"

The argument started as it normally did when they had the unfortunate opportunity of being in each others presence. Anders would say something obnoxious about Fenris' disdain for mages, using what he thought was a witty play on words, and the elf would reply with what _he _thought to be an honest answer. Anders would growl and make some obscene little remark before going off into a tangent, but it was different today.

The look on Anders' face was shallow, and the dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to have gotten even darker since they last saw him. He took a moment to reply, his fingers curling around his staff at his side as he glowered at the stoic elf beside him.

They were sitting in Merrill's little hovel waiting on Hawke to finish listening to whatever it was the Dalish mage was bleating on about. The air was tense and near breaking with the sickly sour taste of magic, something that had Fenris' lip curling and his green eyes shifting about as though enemies were going to come out of hiding from one of Merrill's dirty rooms. It wasn't everyday that Fenris went willingly with an entire group of mages on some twisted little adventure, but Hawke had insisted he come along, and he owed her that much at least. But no matter the frustration it caused, he was relieved he had made it out of the mess Hawke tangled him in with nothing but a few burns and a scratch.

But it had been Hawke's mistake to take a little detour in Lowtown before they made it back to Merrill's _quaint _little abode that had ended whatever sort of truce Hawke made between them when they agreed to travel along with her. It could have been a rumor, another lie those Ferelden refugees enjoyed coming up with, but their words had rung with truth when spoken.

"It should not matter if you've never met her, she deserves more respect than you ever will in your pathetic lifetime."

"Respect?" Fenris gave a derisive snort that only seemed to deepen Anders' frown. "Every mage seeks power, and it appears your 'Hero of Ferelden' was no different."

"You honestly don't care?"

The words were so softly spoken that Fenris momentarily looked to Anders in surprise, seeing the pain and the doubt there. His lips parted to add more insult to injury, but the words died on his tongue.

Fenris knew very little about the Hero of Ferelden. He knew she was an elven mage once from the circle, but soon taken under the wings of the Grey Wardens. Hawke spoke about the woman with childish awe whenever she had the chance, about how she single-handedly stopped the blight, or how she, an elf, put an end to a human civil war. Fenris, at one point in time, might have respected her. But now…

_No_. Fenris found he cared very little.

"She became an abomination. Even great mages will fall prey to the whims of a demon." A sneer made its way upon his lips before he could stop it, as it always did when the subject of mages came to light. His lip curled and he would have snarled, demanded that Anders drop the subject as he noticed that familiar flash of light behind the mage's eyes —all bright and blue and _unnatural_ — but for that very reason, he carried on. "Perhaps this witch wasn't as strong as you thought her to be."

"_Fenris."_

He could hear his name being spoken in a gasp on Hawke's lips as she peered at him, cutting off whatever it was Merrill was saying to her as soon as she heard his words. There was a small second where shame graced his features as he saw the shock and anger upon Hawke's gentle face, her blue eyes wide with disappointment. But in that moment it became too hard to concentrate as he felt the spirit within Anders shift and move until the lyrium etched so finely into his own skin _burned._ The faint glowing of his markings became brighter, his hiss a sound of pain as he clutched at his chest.

This had happened once before when he had first met Anders along with Hawke those years ago. It had been quick and sudden, but the lyrium on his skin had been made aware by whatever it was that lived inside Anders.

_"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?"_

Perhaps Fenris should have paid more attention.

"Because she was a mage, you forsake her then!"

He would had snapped back, told Anders you could not forsake something that hadn't been yours in the first place, hadn't been his to understand or even care to, because Fenris was not _from_ Ferelden. And he was no mage sympathizer. No matter how much people spoke of this Grey Warden in such high regard, all Fenris could pinpoint from it was that she had been a mage, and that she was now gone because she had been too weak to resist a demon. Dead and buried because she had become an abomination, slain by the blades of her own comrades because she had failed them and become what mages feared most.

Mages deserved no better.

As the pain became too much to bear and the sound of Anders' demanding and booming voice became resonating, low and gravelly as the spirit clawed his way out from whatever dark hole he resided in, he felt familiar hands grabbing at his burning arms and pulling him up from the floor he had fallen on.

"Anders, no!"

He could hear Hawke yelling as his fingers fisted in his hair, his back pressing into the cold edge of the mirror that had been placed beside Merrill's bed as Hawke pushed him behind her. A voice in his thoughts told him to move, that this was not the place to be standing and that he was touching it, but the familiar pain of his markings were too overwhelming to listen to what his instincts told him.

"Stop defending him!" It came out as a deep shout, the glow of mage's eyes focused solely on Fenris. "Do you think he loves you, Hawke? A beast like him does not know how to love someone like you – a mage."

The words struck Fenris harder than he should have let it, sharp and piercing like a blade as he saw Hawke's shoulders slump and her head fall.

He didn't blame her.

He had left.

He deserved no sympathy from the woman; he should have known that better than anyone else. But when it came down to it, he had hoped that Hawke would understand. He had hoped she'd give him time… that she would wait for him. But he was not ignorant, and he knew that Hawke needed more than just an elf who could not touch her without the stain of memories in each little caress she had ever given him that night so long ago.

But what he couldn't understand was how she could run to _him_, to the mage who was no better.

"You don't want to do this." Hawke's words were soothing as they normally were when trying to calm the mage, hands raised as though to signal she meant no harm. "Anders, please. I know that you cared about the Warden, but you can't take your grief out this way."

But it seemed that Anders was not listening any longer. The light that burned in his eyes only darkened, swirling with the power of the fade. It only took one step closer to Fenris for his lyrium to burn again, making his teeth grit together and grind down hard.

"You may think you are free now, elf, but you are anything but."

"Do not speak to me about freedom, demon."

Before Fenris could register what it was that the spirit intended, Hawke was pushed aside by glowing hands and Merrill was screaming, screaming something about the mirror as Hawke scrambled back to gain some balance and to reach out to Anders with that familiar ferociousness on her face.

But the spirit rested that bright hand on the Fenris' shoulders before anyone could stop it, shoving him into cold glass, the burning of the markings like fire licking at his skin until he was blinded by white-hot light.

The glass of the Eluvian seemed to shift and crack, and Merrill cried out for them to stop what they were doing, but by then it was already too late. With Justice's power and the glowing of the lyrium upon his skin, the Eluvian seemed to ripple to life

"You are still bound in chains…"

Fenris did not know who spoke it, but it seemed like a million little voices all corralled into one as the mirror broke and swallowed him whole.

"_No_, Fenris!"

And then he was falling.


	2. The Raven

**A/N: **probably going to have a bit of this story already written. I understand the timeline is a little messed up, but I promise I know what I'm doing. I think. :x I would appreciate some reviews. And to start off this story…on the second chapter, here is a question! I will ask one in every chapter.

What was the one class you often used in both Origins and DA2? Rogue, Warrior, or Mage.

**Chapter 1  
_The Raven  
_**"_All caught up in the eye of the storm,  
and trying to figure out what it's like moving on."_

"Not that I am _curious _or anything, but was this friend attractive?"

"Andraste's flaming arse, Anders, can you please just be quiet?"

There was a small huff and the shifting of robes as the man crossed his arms childishly, "Well I'm just _saying…_"

"Oi, don't get yer knickers in a twist, Sparklefingers. I'll tell ya' all about _Morrigan _when yer old enough, hehe_._"

"Ew. No thank you." Anders shot a helpless glance at his Commander as Oghren scooted over closer to him. "Knowing you, dwarf, you'd probably go into full detail of your sick fantasies. I doubt I'd ever get clean again after that."

A tiny nose scrunched up in both frustration and annoyance as petite elven hands searched through the belongings of a woman she had once thought to call a friend. Everything was old and worn, dirtied by mud and other substances that had a faint glow to it. It had been only a few hours ago since she had spoken to Morrigan for the last time, the witch's words having an eerie and unsettling affect on her. She had requested that Morrigan keep some things to herself, that she didn't want to hear anything more about Flemeth or _dark magic. _

Oh, she knew that she was supposed to go back and tell the Wardens everything about the other woman, but there were things that were better left unsaid. Telling the others that she had let another partake in a ritual to save their own skins, potentially producing something dark and evil?

Perhaps the child that Morrigan protected _was_ evil, but there was a certain look in the witch's feline eyes that had caught her interest. Morrigan had looked worried, but there was an air of determination and resolve about her that had rung with more truth than the Warden had ever seen in her. She loved the child, or at least that was what the elven Commander wanted to believe. She only hoped that Morrigan would not turn out as Flemeth had.

"Oriella?"

At the sound of her name, she dropped the small goblet in her hand into the puddle beneath her and turned her head toward Anders. His hand was reaching for the mirror without permission, and before she could tell him to step away from it, his fingers touched the glass. He let out a small yelp that startled her into standing, moving over toward her companion's side. She almost wished she hadn't sent Ariane and Finn back to where they came, because at least they knew more about this bloody mirror than she did, but she also knew that they had no business here.

But Oriella really regretted that she had not asked if the mirror was dangerous enough to warrant striking it down.

"What happened?"

"It burnt my sodding finger." Anders, with a grin tugging at his lips, raised his hand to the Commander's face. "Did you know that a kiss is the best healing magic of all?"

"Sissy-girl."

With a roll of her eyes, Oriella shoved Oghren aside with her hand until he was sputtering insults, only to quiet down as she handed him his confiscated flask back. There was a moment where the two simply stared at Oghren as he began to muttered nonsensical things to an inanimate object. It was Anders who broke the silence.

"As I was _saying_—"

"I am not touching your finger, Anders. It was your own damn fault." She let out a quiet sigh as the other mage whined beside her, enough until Oghren's attention was diverted back to him and they began their daily argument again. It usually consisted of 'you dirty dwarf' and the famous 'you sissy nug-humper.' It was easy to ignore once one got use to it, but as Oriella's brow furrowed in confusion and she spotted something shifting in the depths of the mirror, she found her patience thinning quickly.

"Enough you two!" She pushed back a curled strand of her blonde hair once it tickled her face, a hand on her hip and that stern little glare on her face that usually had people laughing because, honestly, it wasn't all that intimidating.

"He started it."

Oghren lashed out with a short kick to the mage's leg.

"Bloody buggering fuck!"

Anders then mentioned something along the lines of Oghren's height and how he even managed to _reach _as high as his knee in spite of the dwarf, but as she turned to look at the mirror she found herself freezing as she spotted that _thing _again. The sharp sensation of magic and something _dark _pulled at her stomach, fingers twitching at her side as instinct told her to guard herself.

"Do you two sense anything?

"Besides smelling Oghren on my clothes every time I stand next to him?"

"Hah. Yer just upset you don't smell like a real man."

"Something moved in the mirror." Oriella felt Anders' hand on her shoulder that moment, pulling her away as a small burst of energy pulsed against the glass. Something loud, like a clap of thunder, stung her ears until she winced and resorted to covering her eyes as a blinding flash of light seared her vision. It lasted longer than a burst of light should have, leaving a groaning Anders and a cursing dwarf in its wake.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

She would have answered with just the shrug of her shoulders, because she was none the wiser, but a sharp sound of gasping breath had her eyes falling upon the lean form of an elf on his knees, retching clear bile onto the dusty floor. It was her experience with the unknown that had her reaching for her staff behind her back, gritting down hard on teeth as her eyes took in his form.

He looked older than her by maybe four or three years? It was hard to pinpoint such a thing, but if the hard lines on his face as he finally looked up were any indication, he _was _older than her. And he had white hair. White hair and markings that vaguely reminded her of the Dalish, although there was a slight glow to them and they seemed to _hum _whenever the light pulsed within it.

_Lyrium. _He had lyrium etched in his skin.

_How was that even possible? _

She sucked in a breath as the sound of reality came rushing to her ears, reaching out to Anders to stop him as he went to check and see if the white-haired elf wasn't injured in anyway. But as soon as the other mage was close enough, close enough that the elf tensed at the approaching figure, the markings lit brighter and she immediately took that as a warning.

"Anders, don't—"

It must have been the name that set the elf off, because as soon as it left her mouth green eyes were narrowed harshly upon Anders and a snarl fell from foreign lips. It happened all so fast that she nearly tripped on her robes trying to make it over to them, or perhaps it was because she didn't understand what exactly _happened._

One moment the elf's arm was solid, the next it was imbedded in Anders' chest as soon as the mage knelt down.

There was pain on Anders' face she had never seen before, contorting those playful dimples into something almost ugly as he dropped his staff and simply went limp.

"You are hurting him!"

Oghren moved, a small little blur of red that charged in the direction of the glowing elf. She debated whether this was a good idea, that it was better to just end the life of this stranger if he threatened those in her company, but he also had his _hand _in Anders' _chest. _

"Oghren!"

He stilled at his name being called, muttering something that Oriella didn't bother to catch as her eyes turned to the growling elf.

"Not that I'm flattered," Anders managed to get out, "But I think your hand is stuck in my chest."

His words didn't elicit any amusement from the elf. If anything, it made him even angrier as the muscles of his arm seemed to tighten and Anders let out a breathless sound of pain.

"_What have you done to me, abomination_?"

She wasn't good with daggers, swords, or even wooden ones. If Oriella was as uncoordinated as she walked, then giving her sharp weapons wasn't the best idea one could have. But on special occasions like this one, she did have a chance to pull that dagger she hid in the sleeves of her robes out and to hold it precariously close to the elf's neck. If she had been any other woman, she would have been memorized by the quiet hum of lyirum beneath skin that drew up in fancy lines along the neck she now threatened.

"Release him."

As green eyes met her, she faced a challenge. She could see he wasn't about to back done any second, but she took note of the exhaustion and confusion that lingered around the darker flecks of gold around his iris. She pressed the blade of the knife closer to his throat, her frown deepening as he only bared his teeth like an animal. There was a moment where they simply stared at each other, one too stubborn to give in and the other apprehensive and _scared _that Anders would be hurt beyond understanding.

_His hand was in his chest. _

But all it took was a roll her shoulders for stranger's eyes to fall down and land upon the pauldrons of her robes. It was the only actual armor she wore, protective plates that covered her shoulders. The others insisted that she wear something stronger to protect her, but she had walked around for a whole year in cheap metals and itchy fabrics enough for her to appreciate the simplicity of a robe. It wasn't what the elf was looking at however, but staring with wide and curious eyes at the insignia of the Grey Wardens burned proudly into the silverite metal.

To her great relief, Anders was released where he fell on his back and started clutching at his chest as if he couldn't believe it was still there.

"Thank Oghren's hairy ass!"

"Oi!"

The elf was avoiding her eyes now, but she took the hint and backed off a little. There was a pinch in her brow as looked him over, wearing all black. His armor was sharp, the claws of his gauntlet reminding her of a raven.

_She liked ravens._

Her lips pursed, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, witch."

Her brow furrowed even more, casting a glance to a shrugging Anders as the elf put his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. It was an oddly vulnerably position to put one's self in at a time like this, but it didn't seem he was letting his guard down at all. Or maybe he was. She didn't know him at all, how could she possibly know his facets?

"Why did you call Anders an abomination?"

"Why do you ask such obvious questions?" His voice was raspy and low, a quality she would have appreciated if it weren't laced with such sarcasm. She scowled.

"I could interrogate you with my witchly powers, if you'd prefer."

He only scowled again and didn't respond right away, something she found both disrespectful and _frustrating. _Anders murmured something to Oghren that had the elf scowling, and Oriella couldn't help but feel this burning hatred coming off him that was directed entirely at Anders.

"Do you know him, Anders?"

"If you haven't noticed, Commander, he seems to have a thing against mages. And I'm all _pro-mage_, so I don't see us prancing through a field of flowers any time soon."

Oghren snorted.

"Well he seems to know you." Anders shrugged at her statement of observation, looking on in confusion as she moved back toward the elf with a nervous little twitch about her.

Her hand was held out to him with a stern look in her eyes, daring him to say or do anything rash. But he only glared and swatted her hand away like a child, and Oriella could only watch with some small sense of satisfaction as the other elf attempted to stand only to stumble. "Are you sure you're alright?" She reached out to him, but he practically growled at her. "You did just come through a mirror, of all things."

"I'm _fine._"

He didn't look fine. He looked considerably paler in his face than the rest of his body did, and he had reached around him in what Oriella could only guess was an instinctual movement to get a weapon from his back, but there was nothing there.

And then he stumbled again.

"Relax." She moved to help him and to put her arm around his shoulder, but the withering look he sent her made her hesitate. "I'm only trying to help you. And being that I am a Grey Warden, I will have to take you with me for questioning, so you might want to make it easy on yourself."

"Does being a Grey Warden give you a right to kidnap a person?"

"It does when said person came through an old artifact we've been studying, yes."

He waved her away again, and this time she did back up.

"Very well." The smile she offered him was bland, perhaps a little exhausted. "We will wait for you outside then. I am sure you know where that is then, yes?"

He sent her _that _look again. The look that said she was beneath him and that he didn't care who or what she is, other than the fact that she had offended him by trying to help him.

She gave him the ever familiar Warden salute, where she pressed her right fist into her chest and bowed her head ever so slightly. It had him staring at her in slight confusion, but it seemed to vanish into panic when she turned around and waved for the others to follow. It was only a few steps, almost right off the island that the mirror resided on, when she heard him speak.

"Wait." She smiled sincerely this time when she turned to look at him. "What is your name?"

"Oriella Surana. And you?"

If it were possible, he looked even more lost and frustrated than he already did. "That's not possible. You are supposed to be dead."

"Pardon?"

Anders sighed. "_Please_ don't let this be _another _assassination attempt."

"Let me kill the little tree-hugger!"

Oriella smiled a little at the dwarf's words as she raised a hand to subdue him. "I am very much alive. Now do we get a name?"

He pursed his lips, studying her with those cold green eyes of his before he finally gave a little sigh and a nod of defeat. "Fenris."

"Fenris." It tasted strange on tongue, foreign and heavy. There was too much behind it she realized, this history she could see lying behind the glass of his eyes. If it had anything to do with the markings on his skin, the Warden wanted to know. "Come then. If we leave now, we could make it back to the Keep before sunset."

The way he moved reminded her so much of someone ready to spring if anything surprised him. It was good to be alert, especially in places like this, but it was the fact that the elf didn't loosen up. If anything, he only seemed to tense even more as he got closer to them.

"I promise Anders will be on his very best behavior." She laughed a little at the other elf's scoff of disbelief.

"I doubt it."

"Andraste's tits, I'm not an abomination!"


End file.
